sleep in my palms
by closingdoors
Summary: AU from 6x09, Disciple. Castle and Beckett are happily approaching their wedding - with the weight of Jerry Tyson hanging over them. Is it all merely a part of Castle's imagination, or are the clues all part of a larger game? Cover art by half0utloud.
1. Chapter 1

**sleep in my palm****s**

* * *

Let me  
slip your soul out of your skin  
so you can sleep in my palms  
for tonight.  
- A Thousand Paper Cranes, Shinji Moon

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I definitely do not own Castle, no matter how much I wish I did. Big hug to the wonderful half0utloud for the magnificent cover art. *swoons*

* * *

"Oh, honey, it's perfect."

Kate can't help the delighted giggle that escapes her, hands tracing down the bodice of the ivory gown. The lace netting brushes against her fingers and she turns to stare at herself in the mirror, biting the lip at the sight of herself _in her wedding dress. _God, all of it, it hadn't felt real. Not until now. Even the weight of the ring on her finger hadn't made it feel real – It had simply felt like the reminder of the commitment that she'd made to Castle. But now, as she stares at herself, tracing the patterns of lace of the dress before it pools to her feet in a silk skirt, she feels the excitement racing through her veins.

She's getting _married._

"It is, isn't it?"

There's wonder in her voice, she can hear it, and she can't bring herself for one moment to even think about trying to keep it out.

Lanie stands beside her and grins. "You look gorgeous. You're gonna knock Castle dead, girl, and if not, I'd be more than happy to marry you when you're looking as beautiful as _that._"

Kate laughs, smoothing her hands down the dress once again. "I'll keep that in mind, Lanie."

"Katherine, dear, what are you planning on doing with your hair?" Martha says, joining her other side.

"Oh," Kate says, reaching up to absentmindedly play with the curls. "I'm not sure yet. What do you think?"

"Definitely up," Martha says as Lanie hums in agreement. "You could have it curled, perhaps – Leave some down. Gosh, darling, you'll look beautiful."

Kate doesn't bother trying to smother her smile. "I like that idea, Martha."

She's sure Castle will, too. He loves her hair, no matter whether it's up or down. When it's down, he loves to play with it, comb his fingers through her hair absentmindedly, bury his fingers in the tangled mess when they're making love. When it's up, he loves the open access to her neck, loves the way he can pull her head back so that he can kiss her, loves the way it tumbles around her shoulders when he frees it from the clips and hairband holding it up.

Mhm. Yeah. She's definitely wearing it up.

"You're going to need a necklace," she hears Alexis point out quietly behind them. "Your neck will look too empty otherwise."

Kate turns from the mirror to the young redhead, who watches her shyly. The girl had been hesitant to come when Kate had invited both her and Martha along – who had more than willingly obliged. Their relationship was still a tentative one at that, and Kate could see that there were still many gaps that ought to be crossed in order to reach the kind of relationship Kate wanted them to have. It's why she'd insisted that Alexis come along even when the young girl had seemed unsure. They were about to become a family. Not just her and Castle. Martha and Alexis were a part of that, too. Alexis was going to be her stepdaughter. They needed somewhere to start the foundations of that kind of relationship.

Besides, an extra person helped soothe the ache formed by the absence of her mother.

"I didn't think of that," Kate says, hand pressing against the sweetheart neckline of the dress. "Good call, Alexis."

The young girl smiles brightly, eagerness lacing through her next words. "I have a catalogue at my apartment, actually, that I think would have stuff in it that you'd like. I can bring it round for you tomorrow after my classes – I mean, that's if you want."

Kate smiles, wary of their audience. "I'd like that, Alexis."

She turns back to the mirror one final time and doesn't miss Lanie's smug look that she throws her way. However she pointedly ignores it, as well as the nervous clatter of her heart against her ribs. It's just – She's getting married. This is her dress. Castle's her one and done. It's all kind of surreal in the most beautiful way, when she thinks about it.

"So, this is the one?"

Kate takes one last, long appraising look in the mirror. That fluttering in her heart doesn't go away.

"Yeah, this is the one."

Lanie and Alexis share a cab together to their apartments once Kate's paid and they bid their farewells, Alexis murmuring a shy _see you tomorrow _in Kate's ear as they hug. Martha slips into Kate's cruiser with her, making sure that she places the box carefully in the trunk, a hand pressed against her heart for fear of 'marring such a beautiful dress'. During the drive, she regales Kate with tales of her upcoming lunch date, about how she can't believe she'd forgotten her purse back at the loft that morning. Kate can't help but smile fondly as she listens to the older woman's antics. There's something about Martha that is just inherently likeable, for all her eccentricity.

"You know, Katherine," Martha says as they step into the elevator together, "I'm really glad you're marrying my son."

Kate knows exactly why there's a sudden tightness in her throat, and her fingers curl tighter around the box she holds in her hands.

"And I know Alexis is pleased it's you who's marrying Richard, despite how distant she may seem," Martha tells her, following Kate to the loft door. "We're all pleased that you're joining the family, dear."

The door falls open slowly in front of Kate but she doesn't step inside. Instead she takes a moment to smile softly at Martha, all that warm emotion spreading like fine ink through her heart and staining her brightly. Yeah. She's happy. All of the Castle's – They make her happy.

"I'm pleased too, Martha," Kate says softly.

Martha smiles at her before sashaying into the loft, calling out a greeting to her son before she grabs her purse from the kitchen counter and is back out of the door before Kate has even had a chance to walk in.

"Hey," she says warmly when she spots Castle rising from the sofa.

"Hey," he replies, kissing her sweetly in greeting. "You found your dress?"

Kate bites her lip to keep the emotion swirling inside of her from tumbling out. Because here's Castle. Her _fiancé. _And she's wearing his ring on her finger and she's holding her dress in the box and it's so – so wonderful and new and exciting.

"Yeah. I found it."

His hands toy with hers around the box. "Can I see it?"

"No, Castle."

"Aw c'mon, Kate, just a little peek."

"Castle."

"It won't hurt," he whines with a pout. "And the wedding isn't for another three months. I'll go crazy with suspense."

"I said no, Castle. Now close your eyes."

He grins eagerly. "Why? Are we gonna do something kinky?"

She rolls her eyes. "No, Castle, so I can hide this box someplace you won't find it."

"Spoilsport," he huffs, before moving back to the sofa and very obviously placing his hands over his eyes.

Kate can't prevent the chuckle she lets out at his antics. He's a child. She's marrying a man-child. And damn, she loves him for it, loves the way he can make her laugh the way nobody else can. His spirit, his never ending ability to see the bright side of life, makes her forget how dark she can feel sometimes. He pulls her out of that dark place with his childishness. Of course she's always going to love him for that.

She hides the box behind Alexis' now empty dresser. Logically, she knows that Castle won't _really _peek. However, she does know that he'll go looking for the box, just so he can smugly say that she's not good at hiding things and then proceed to nag her every day to let him see the dress.

"Alexis is coming over tomorrow, by the way," she calls out as she walks down the stairs.

Castle swivels on his spot, hands still covering his eyes. "She is? When?"

Kate pulls his hands from his eyes while smiling, linking their own together and leaning over the back of the couch to kiss him tenderly.

"Yeah. After her classes, so I suppose some time before dinner. We're gonna look for a necklace to go with my dress."

Castle groans. "Stop teasing, Kate."

She smiles innocently, dropping his hands so she can walk around and sit beside him on the couch, swinging her legs over his lap. "Not teasing. Just telling you the truth."

"If you're sticking with the whole bad luck to see the dress traditon, does this mean you wanna sleep in separate rooms the night before? Because let me tell you, there are no perks to that, Kate."

She'd toyed with the idea, because more than anything she was a romantic at heart. It was how she'd imagined her wedding as a kid. Blushing bride in a beautiful dress, seeing her fiancé for the first time that day as she walks down the aisle instead of the usual routine of waking up together, elbows bumping as they brush their teeth. She loves the domesticity of their relationship, of course, she wouldn't swap it for anything in the world. It's just not how she'd pictured it.

Then again, she hadn't exactly pictured marrying her favourite novelist, either.

"I don't know, Castle. Don't you like the sound of it? All the anticipation, the excitement, leading up to that moment when I walk towards you to marry you?" She asks shyly, watching the admiration flare in his eyes. "I think it sounds sweet."

Castle combs a hand through her hair, watching her softly.

"Well, most of all, I like the sound of calling you my wife," he tells her honestly, and her heart melts on the spot. "Whatever you want, Mrs Castle."

She pinches him for that, scowling as he yelps. "I'm not changing my name."

"You are."

"I am _not_."

"Yeah, you are. You told me that you will. Or were you too preoccupied with what we were doing at the time to remember?"

She blushes at that. "I'm not changing it on the job. There's no way I'm gonna be Detective Castle."

The light glimmers in his eyes at that, but she cuts him off before he can get any ideas.

"Try and argue with me on that one and there will be no wedding."

Castle laughs, tugging on her legs to pull her closer until she's straddling him on the couch, his thumbs sweeping in circles against her hips. "Yeah, right."

"I mean it," she says, even as she tilts her head back so that he has access to her neck and – _yes, Castle. _

"You wouldn't dare call the wedding off. You loooooove me."

She huffs, but lifts her arms above her head anyway as Castle drags her sweater over her head, leaving wet kisses against the exposed skin of her collarbone. She arches into his touch, his hands sweeping against the bottom of her back and for a moment she forgets that she's supposed to be thinking of a witty retort at all.

So all that comes out instead is: "I do, Castle. I love you."

* * *

Kate's drying her hair with one of their towels when she finds him in his study, expression downcast. She knows immediately why, knows what it is he's starting at on that touch screen of his. His latest obsession, the case that had replaced her own on the screen. She sighs softly before moving to stand beside him, winding an arm around his waist as she leans into him.

"Castle."

"Kate," he murmurs softly. "Don't."

"You've got to let it go."

He steps away from her and gestures to the pictures on screen. "How can I, Kate? Knowing he's out there? Never knowing when he's gonna strike again?"

"Castle," she says quietly, throwing the towel over his chair so that her hands are free to reach for him. "You need to stop shouldering all the blame for this."

"But it is my fault, Kate."

"And it's mine. And it's Esposito's. And Ryan's. And every other cop he's ever evaded," she tells him softly, reaching out to squeeze his hand in hers, watching him carefully. "It's been three months, Castle. He's not coming back."

Castle's shoulders drop and he hangs his head, loosening his hand from her grip. Her heart breaks at that, because they've been arguing about this almost every day for the past three months, and every time he rejects her affection. Knowing that there's nothing she can do, nothing she can say, to make him feel the pain any less reduces her to a helpless state. She can't stand it.

"You don't understand, Kate. I love you, and we're getting married, and everything is perfect. I've never been happier. How am I supposed to move on and act like this threat isn't here? How am I supposed to act like everything is okay when our lives could be ruined whenever 3XK wants?"

Oh – He's doing this because of them?

Oh, Castle.

"Rick," she whispers, stepping closer so that she can cradle his skull in her palms, pull his forehead down to meet hers. "I understand. I do. But don't give him this satisfaction. Don't let him distract you from how happy we are."

"But – Kate – That look in your eyes when that song – I can't just – "

"Shh," she whispers, pressing a kiss against his lips, feeling his hands curl around her waist. "Castle, I know."

She does. She remembers, three months ago, when that song had ended and she'd tripped forwards, caught in his embrace before her knees could give out beneath her. And then she was crying into his shirt, begging Castle for answers he didn't have, seeking solace that he couldn't provide. _How does he know, Castle?_ She'd whispered, terrified. _Castle, they played that song at my mom's funeral. How does he know?_

"I just wanna keep you safe, Kate."

Kate sighs, leaning away from him too look up at his clouded eyes. Tortured. He shouldn't ever be so sad. Castle doesn't deserve this.

"I know. I know, Castle. But let's just leave it. Please. For tonight, Castle, come to bed."

Their gazes hold for a long time and she can see the conflict hidden in his blue depths. Can feel the tension radiating from him, as she slides her hands around his waist, presses her hands against the tense bow of his spine.

Finally, he gives in.

"Okay, Kate," he whispers. "Let's go to bed."

She lies wide awake that night, watching the slight frown on his face as he sleeps.

She wishes Jerry Tyson dead with every beat of her heart.

* * *

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**sleep in my palms**

You guys are the best. Hold on. It's gonna be a bumpy ride.

* * *

One month later, Kate's laying along the couch with magazines strewn across the coffee table, resting a weary hand over her aching eyes. She can hear Castle messing around with pots and pans and contrasting ingredients in the kitchen, a concoction of smells drifting around her that don't smell too good.

"Castle," she mumbles. "What're you doin'?"

Castle drops something and she hears him hiss, but instead of checking on him and his inevitable melodrama, she closes her eyes, feeling exhaustion smudge the edges of her mind.

"Experimenting with dessert," he says. "It's how the Smorelette was born. Just you wait, Beckett, I'll have another masterpiece on my hands."

She sighs. "Castle, the Smorelette is terrible."

"You deny my culinary skills?"

His voice suddenly becomes much closer, and she peeks out from beneath her hand to see him standing by her feet at the other end of the sofa. He's watching her softly, a trace of laughter still etched into the parentheses of his lips.

"I thought you were making your new masterpiece."

Castle shrugs, lifting her feet so he can shift onto the sofa, and then slides down to lay beside her, an arm around her waist anchoring her to him. She lets out a content sigh as she turns into him, face tucking into his neck and breathing him in as she burrows into the sheltering alcove of his body. The tension locked into the core of her own body already begins to loosen, his hands like molten lava as he cups the back of her skull, plays with her hair.

"You sound sleepy. You like snuggling when you're sleepy, and there's no way I'm missing out on that."

She rolls her eyes into his skin, can't summon the energy to twist his ear for that comment. "You using me for my snuggling habits, Castle?"

He laughs, the sound vibrating in his chest against hers and filling her with warmth. She lets her hands wander to his chest, press above his heart as his own dips from her hips to her waist while he murmurs into her ear as he chuckles.

"And your hot body, Kate. Your snuggling habits _and _your hot body."

"Mhm, I wish I could say the same."

Castle growls, pressing kisses to her neck and along her jaw that make her squirm in his grasp while she laughs happily.

She's going to have forever with this man.

He relinquishes his playful attack on his neck and leans back so that he can see her face properly, still holding her close so that their legs tangle together along the leather of the couch, her hair brushing along his forearms. Castle can see she's tired, presses a thumb against the dark smudges beneath her eyes that somehow don't overpower the glow she has from closing a case that day.

"You wanna go to bed?"

She casts her eyes over to the magazines on the coffee table. "We need to finish picking out a cake, Castle. You distracted me earlier."

He grins wolfishly. "It was a good distraction though, right?"

She rolls her eyes. "I'm serious. We're two months away from the wedding in May and we've hardly sorted any of the details."

"Told you we should've gotten a wedding planner."

"_Our _wedding, Castle," she points out. "Why would I let someone else organise it?"

"C'mon, Kate. It's not like we have _huge _things left to organise. We have your dress, I have my tux, the venue's sorted, the invites, the food, the decoration, the bridesmaids, yada yada yada."

Kate smiles, remembering the flutter in her stomach she'd had when they'd visited the Botanical Gardens together in Brooklyn. The moment they'd arrived she'd known that she wanted to get married there, could picture the ceremony down to every minute detail. And she didn't even need to say anything, because Castle seemed as enraptured as she had been as they walked amongst the grounds.

It'd been reason for them to set the date in May, too. Since it was an outside ceremony, she wanted to stick close to the summer for good weather, and Castle's sentimentality had appealed to her when he'd begged for them to be married on May 7th, the day they had first gotten together. Some part of her knew it was cheesy, perhaps – but that light in his eyes when he'd asked, it had been enough for her to overlook it.

"But what happens when we get distracted again, because of my job or your writing or something we don't expect? What if something goes wrong? Castle, I don't want this to – I just want this day to be perfect, you know?" She says shyly.

"I know," he says, nudging his nose against her cheekbone. "But for now, we need to sleep. You have the day off tomorrow. We can talk then, I promise."

She opens her mouth to argue – she'd been planning her day off to be spent in bed save for trips to the fridge – but then he scoops her up in his arms and while she berates him for it on the outside, his arms make her feels safe, and warm, and home, and so she sleeps when they finally curl around each other like two parentheses completing one another beneath the covers.

* * *

The first threat arrives on March 17th.

It's not what she expects, to say the least. 3xK was always so grand in his act. The anticipation was what he loved, the fear he spiked. But the first threat is simple in a plain white envelope, delivered to her by a uniform she's yet to learn the name of, telling her nothing but the fact that it had been handed in by a man who said he was her friend downstairs.

Kate smiles, thanking the officer. The envelope has no writing on it so, frowning, she opens it warily. It contains a single piece of white card. It's the words that stop her heart, make her fingers tremble as she holds it disbelievingly in her hands.

_Congratulations on your wedding._

_Are you ready to be a widow?_

For a moment she's stuck in her seat, staring at the words, feeling dread spring its ugly roots through her ribs, wrapping tightly until they constrict her lungs and she can't _breathe, _she can't –

"Wait!"

She catches the uniform just before the elevator doors close, wedging her body between the minute gap of the doors. The uniform steps back in surprise, his eyes widening. "Detective Beckett?"

The doors slide away and she finds herself able to breathe again, no matter how shallow it may be.

"Officer – Do you remember who it was that gave you this envelope?"

The uniform's mouth opens once, twice, before he finally stops behaving like a goldfish and simply stares at her like she's grown a second head.

"Uh, no. He didn't give me his name."

Her heart leaps to her throat. "You didn't recognise him?"

"No, I didn't," the uniform tells her. "Does it not – Is his name not on it?"

"Yes, his name is signed as clear as day at the bottom, which is exactly why I'm asking you for it," she snaps bitterly, watching the uniform visibly shrink at her reprimand. She has no time for cluelessness. "Did he have any discernible features? Wear a uniform?"

"No. He was just a regular guy," he says.

"Tall? Short? Ethnicity? Any tattoos?"

"Uh, listen, Detective Beckett… What is this about? He said you were old school friends."

She presses her fingers to her temples, rubbing lightly, yearning to release the aching tension building in her mind. Dammit. God dammit. She should've listened – when Tyson had slipped through their fingers, she should've listened to Castle.

No. _No. _It might just be… It could be anything. Anyone. She's a detective, lots of convicts want her dead. Hell, it could be Bracken for all she knows.

"You're gonna need to come give a statement, kid," she tells him. "I've been threatened."

* * *

Castle rushes into the conference room with all the grace of a bull in a china shop. He bumps into several detectives leaning against the doorway, before parting the slight crowd that's grown so that he can dart to her side, catch her questing hand in his.

"You okay?" He asks breathlessly, eyes roaming wildly across her face.

She gives his hand a squeeze, for once not caring that she's surrounded by her colleagues. She rests her head against his shoulder as he sits beside her, eyes fluttering shut. "Better," she says, and lets the rest go unsaid.

"Mr Castle," she hears Gates say, and opens her eyes to find the woman studying them carefully. "Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt you?"

"I could name one," he growls, and she squeezes his hand again. "But it'd be an embarrassment to the NYPD."

Gates nods slowly, eyes inscrutable. "Okay. Have you received any threats yourself? Can you think of anyone more… alive… that would want to hurt you?"

"Hurt me?" Castle repeats, overactive mind filled with blurry images of Kate dead, alone in a pile of garbage, finally tripping over itself to catch up with the conversation. "The threat was for Kate."

Kate sighs, relinquishing her grip on his hand and moving her head from his shoulder to reach for the bagged piece of card. She slides it over to him, his fingers brushing hers as he leans forwards and grabs it. She watches with melancholy leaking through the crevices of her heart as his eyes scan the words an innumerable amount of times before he settles back, shock etched into the inexorable darkness of his pupils.

"He wants to hurt me," Castle murmurs. "He wants to end what he's started."

"Castle – "

"He's right, Beckett," Gates says, and Kate has to find every ounce of strength within her to look away from Castle's wounded look. "If this is who we think it is, we know that he has a personal vendetta against Mr Castle."

Ryan walks in then, and all of her hope sinks at the defeated look on his face.

"Lanie got the lab results back. I'm sorry, there's no prints."

Kate leans back in her seat, dragging a hand down her face. "Of course not," she says. "It was never gonna be this easy."

Esposito walks in with a stack of files then, his head barely fitting over the top to see where he's walking. He sets the stack before Beckett, casting a sympathetic glance to the pair of them before he moves away, back to join the crowd.

"Beckett, we can't assume this is 3XK. For now, you'll need to go through all of your cases from the past year, check to see if any of these convicts have been released, you know the drill. Ryan and Esposito, I want you combing through security footage for both the inside and outside of the building, then check on Officer Perez with the sketch artist. We're gonna catch this son of a bitch before it gets serious."

The crowd disperses, leaving Kate and Castle alone in the conference room, staring at the daunting stack of files.

"I hate paperwork," Kate attempts to joke, but it falls flat.

"You know it's him, Kate," he says, turning to her with desperate eyes. "It's him."

She curls her hand around his, the pads of her fingers tracing patterns into the palm of his hands.

"I'm not saying it isn't him, Castle," she murmurs, leaning forward to press her cheek against his shoulder again. "We just need to prove it's not anyone else first."

Castle sighs, shifting closer until their knees bump and his hands slide between her shoulder blades. It feels like it should be enough to conquer the fear. It should always be enough.

"He can't have you, Castle," she tells him fiercely, fisting a hand in his shirt. "You're mine. Not his."

His lips leave the ghost of a kiss against her forehead. "I am," he whispers. "Always. Yours."

It should be enough.

* * *

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**sleep in my palms**

Y'all are sweet. You make me wanna keep _my _tissues on-hand with some of the sweet stuff you say.

* * *

Of course, the surveillance turns up nothing specifically new. Esposito reports to them when she and Castle are two hours into their search through her past year of cases. He shows them the closest video footage that they could get. Red curls peek out beneath the plain NY baseballs cap that their suspect is wearing, and her eyes lock with Castle's when recognition hits them.

The moment passes, the footage is over and Esposito is speaking to her with determination tattooed into the plain canvas of his eyes:

"We're gonna catch this guy, Beckett. He ain't getting anywhere near either of you. Not again."

She nods, smiling, but she can tell it's a poor attempt when he smiles back with a no more convincing smile than hers had been.

Esposito leaves them once again. Castle's silent, stoic in his chair when she settles beside him. She waits for it patiently; the dull tones to his voice, their serious tenor replacing the playful lilt that she adores so much. Eventually, once she's opened another file and has read half of the first page of paperwork, it comes slow and soft and hopeless.

"You know it's him."

She shakes her head. "We don't."

"Nieman. She was right there. I saw it," he argues hotly. "I know you saw it too. Hell, you practically admitted it was him earlier."

"She might not be working for him."

"Beckett, she – "

"Castle. Please," she whispers, staring at their hands as she claps them together on the table. "I know. Okay? I know."

He sighs, leans his forehead against hers.

"Don't be scared. He never wins, Kate," he says. "This time is no different."

She lets out a shaky breath, cups his face in her hands. _Don't leave me, _she wants to say.

"I know," she says instead.

"Do you?"

His thumb traces against the softness of her palm as his hand settles above her own. It calms her, if only a little, grounds her when she's losing herself amidst a sea of fear. Fear that she's not enough, she's never been enough, to protect him from this. If only she were enough. His steady weight against her, his beating heart, all of this love for her – she would amount to it all if she could save him.

"I know it's him," she admits. "I know."

"I understand," he answers her unspoken question. "Don't risk your career for me."

She huffs out a laugh at that, pulling away to find him staring at her curiously. Tears shouldn't gather in her eyes but they do, as she laughs the pain to the back of her mind.

"Oh, Castle," she says. "That's what I've been doing since day one."

* * *

The officer's statement means nothing to her. It had been 'some guy' according to the officer, yet Castle and Beckett could clearly see the red curls beneath her baseball cap, the womanly figure swallowed in a man's jacket. _Good luck ever being promoted to detective, _she thinks as the officer passes her after finishing with the sketch artist. She's astounded by some people's inability to observe.

Ryan joins them where they stand before the murder board. There hasn't been a murder, she tells her roaring heart, he's still here. No murder. There won't be. There can't be.

(There could be.)

"It's her, isn't it?" Ryan says as he hands them the sketch of their suspect. "It's gotta be her."

She glares at Castle, but he simply makes a zipping motion over his lips. When she takes the sketch from his hands, she is hit instantly with the image of Doctor Nieman. The minor details are partly vague, she can see the parts the detective had never paid attention to. The curls aren't visible from the front, and the baseball cap obscures their eyes, but the mouth is all Nieman, the angle of her jaw.

Kate clenches her own. Okay. She can do this.

They've nothing more than when they began.

But she can do this.

"It's her," she confirms. "That's her."

Castle peers over her shoulder, nodding silently before he moves away, sits in his chair. Every part of her aches to move over to him, to comfort him with her touch and her words, promises she knows she shouldn't make but she would do it, she'd do it all, for him. But she simply stares at his shoulders, his back to her, before she turns to Ryan.

She's a detective. And that's all she has.

"Her financials not take a hit?"

Ryan shakes his head, sighing. "No hits. She may as well have fallen off the edge of the Earth. Whatever they're doing, wherever they've ran, they must have money on them in hand. Or Tyson, possibly, under a fake name – "

"_Ryan,_" she hisses, glancing around. "You can't talk like that."

He has the good grace to look slightly ashamed. "But we know," he whispers. "You know, Beckett. We all know."

"It would be an embarrassment to the NYPD," she points out. "I can't be taken off of this."

A flicker of understanding alights behind Ryan's eyes. Then, he's taking the sketch from her hand, clipping it to the murder board, before he stands beside her once again.

"Okay," Ryan says. "Then we find Nieman. And we take it from there."

* * *

Later, when Castle's undressing her and their bodies are crawling into one another, she says it, what she's been burning to say all day: "I love you."

And again.

And again.

And again.

It never loses its meaning. Not once. Her tears, perhaps, are a little too lost for her actions.

But it never loses its meaning.

* * *

The second threat arrives on April 1st.

They rise late that day, lounging and laughing and loving for a long time in bed. She makes jokes about his age, he proves to her that he's still as young as he needs to be. Her cheeks are flushed and she's only wearing his shirt when they finally make it into the kitchen, stumbling around one another in an attempt to make pancakes. She ends up with more flour on her thighs and her cheeks than the pancakes do.

She laughs around her next bite of pancake, staring at the ruined stack smothered in syrup before them.

"I know we talked about mixing food with sex, Castle, but this is not what I meant."

He almost chokes on his own mouthful of food as she watches with a coy grin. By the time he's poured his entire mug of coffee down his throat to soothe it, her foot has already trailed up the inside of his leg and a witty retort has been lost from his mind.

"Kate," he groans. "You're killing me here."

"Eat up, Castle," she says innocently, before trapping her tongue between her teeth. "You need your stamina for what I've planned today."

He opens his mouth to reply, but then the sound of paper sliding interrupts them, soft and faint but there. They frown at one another, trepidation filling their hearts.

"I swear to God, Castle," she says, "if you lied when you said your mother was out until 2 today – "

"I didn't. She's not here," he says, rising from his seat.

Kate follows him as they attempt to find the source of the sound, burying her face in her hands. "I just had sex with you on your kitchen counter. That's _her _kitchen counter too."

Castle laughs. "Kate, I don't think my mother believes we only hold hands."

They find the source of the sound, eventually, and Kate wishes that they hadn't. The original threat, of course, still lingered in the back of her mind. But it had almost been a month since then and, with no new leads, it had become far less dangerous, more of a distant fear that a present one, just trying to scare them.

She wishes that they'd had more time. Spent more time wrapped around each other celebrating his life and whispering words that would've made a teenaged version of her swoon at the romance, blissfully unaware of their invaded space.

This envelope, like the first, is plain. A simple _Castle _is written on the front, which has him ripping it open eagerly, like a child.

A birthday card falls into his hands and he grins at her smugly.

"_Someone _remembered my birthday," he teases.

"I _know_ it's your birthday, Castle," she says, rolling her eyes. "But I told you, you're waiting till Martha and Alexis are here before you get your present."

It isn't a birthday card.

It has the makings of one. _Happy Birthday! _Stands out in bright colours on the front, a simple pattern of balloons stretched across a blue background. But inside. Inside it's not. The words are not a friendly wish.

_Happy Birthday, Mr Castle._

_Are you ready for it to be your last?_

"Kate."

"Castle."

He turns to her, and she's pressing up on her toes and wrapping him up in her arms when he falls into her, swaying softly.

"Not your last," she whispers fiercely in his ear. "We're gonna grow grey together, you hear me Castle?"

Castle buries his head in her hair, breathing deeply, her hands pressed against his shoulders rising and falling with each movement, repercussions.

"Yeah," he murmurs. "Together."

* * *

They spend the majority of his birthday at the precinct.

She interrogates his neighbors, the manager of her building, and the doorman. None of them recall seeing anyone unfamiliar in the building around that time of day, let alone anyone suspicious. Everything had been normal, they tell her. And no, there haven't been any new tenants in the past two months. Everything is fine.

There are no prints. No witnesses. Just words in a card, calligraphy matched to that of the previous threat, and nothing else. They wear themselves thin exhausting leads that have long since lead down the rocky path to nowhere. Her blood is replaced with coffee, and no matter how many times she insists he leaves and celebrates his birthday with his family, he doesn't budge.

"But you're my family too," he says. "And if you're here, I'm here."

There's no room for arguing, and she briefly allows herself a break when Martha and Alexis arrange an impromptu birthday bash in the precinct break room, adorning the room with a few balloons and their presents for Castle and false light in their eyes. He accepts it readily, plays along, and she keeps one hand pressed between his shoulder blades, the other twisting around the engagement ring on her finger.

"Happy birthday, Dad," Alexis says as she departs with Martha, kissing him on the cheek and speaking chirpily but she catches Beckett's eye as she hesitates in the door, anxiety shrouding the usual light in the young girls' eyes.

Castle settles beside her on the break room couch. She knows that she needs to work harder. It's 8pm and they've been running on coffee and the Thai that Ryan had brought in when he'd seen their weary faces. But for a moment, she sits with him, breathing him in this one brief moment of solace.

Eventually, at 10pm, they arrive back at the loft to find everything out of place. CSU had combed it for bugs – just in case – and had turned up 3 hidden cameras. She doesn't know if they're old or not. She doesn't know if they work. She doesn't care. It's her fiancé's birthday and everything wrong and her body aches and she just needs to sleep and know he'll be there when she wakes up.

They agree to look into the cameras the next morning, and finally, they are alone in the loft. Pancakes still set on the table, flour covering the counter and the floor, his shirt she'd been wearing dropped onto the back of the couch when she'd shed it in a haste to be dressed in order to go to the precinct. Everything tainted.

"He was here," Castle says. "He was here and we missed him."

"We'll get him."

It feels like they're always switching roles. Castle turns to her with red-rimmed eyes, hopeless eyes.

"Of course we will," she says. "We still need to get married, Castle, remember?"

He pulls her forward, loves her the only way they know how in that moment.

"Yeah," he whispers when he's pushing her down into the couch cushions. "We're gonna get married. Nothing will stop that."

* * *

"If it helps, I got you a lightsaber for your birthday," she tells him sometime between night and day, shadows playing on his face as they lay a tangle of limbs on his couch.

He laughs lightly. "I'll play with it in the morning."

It helps. His laughter.

It helps.

* * *

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**sleep in my palms**

The final threat arrives on April 17th.

It waits for her on her desk, buried in the pile of paperwork she's making her way through that day. She doesn't find it until after her lunch break, Castle finally turning up solely to bring her lunch and distract her from said paperwork. As soon as she finds it, a small plain envelope, she knows what it is. She just doesn't know how it got there.

"Did you see who put this here?"

She aims the words at Ryan and Esposito, but glances around the precinct at passing officers, who all immediately look away. Ryan and Esposito frown at her, raising from their seats to move over to her desk, inspecting the envelope.

"I didn't see anyone." Ryan tells her.

"Is it him?" Esposito asks.

She glances at Castle, afraid. He's already reaching for her hand.

"Only one way to find out, right?" Castle says.

"Right."

She opens the envelope with trembling fingers, attempting desperately to calm her pulse as it pounds in her ears but it doesn't work, nothing works.

The words on card don't help at all.

_Tick tock,_

_His life's on the clock._

She drops the piece of card as though it burns, jerking straight back in her chair, Castle's hand tightening imperceptibly around hers.

Ryan and Esposito look to her for direction, and the anger is already rising, because God _damn _this son of a bitch is not going to get away with this; he doesn't get to make threats and make them pawns in his game. They're going to find him, and he is going to pay for all he has ever done.

He doesn't get Castle.

"Look over CCTV," she tells them. "I wanna know how the Hell he got this here without anyone seeing."

"On it," Esposito says, pushing away and Ryan immediately trails after him.

Her boys.

When she turns back to Castle, she doesn't placate him, not now. Three times is too much. She's lost him too many times for this to happen – they're finally _happy. _She has all these dreams, all these hopes, for their future. She knows that he does too. There's no way that they're going to let Jerry Tyson take them away.

Instead of placating him, she grips his hand fiercer in her own.

"I would die for you," she says quietly, leaning forward so only he can hear what her heart yearns to spill from her lips. "And if that's what I need to do to save you, I'll do it."

"No, Kate," Castle murmurs wretchedly. "That's not saving me."

She sighs, shifting so that their knees brush, her hair forming a curtain so it's just _them._

"Maybe not," she whispers, tracing the shape of a heart against his pulse. "But it'd save me."

* * *

Esposito calls them into the conference room forty minutes later, CCTV of the bullpen up on the screen.

"It's him," Esposito says the moment they walk in. "There's no way it's anyone else."

They stand as vigils when Esposito rewinds the tape and begins to play it again. The video takes place at 3am that morning in the precinct, lights dimmed and empty. Slowly, a figure emerges, dark and vague at first, until he stops beside Beckett's desk with the envelope in his hands. He wears the same fake officer outfit he had when he'd framed Castle for murder – that explains how he'd made it past security. Tyson slips the envelope into her stack of paperwork slowly, before he steps from the shadows and smirks up at the camera.

"Bastard," she curses, the word tumbling from her without her permission.

His face is different – leaner, sallow, no doubt the result of Nieman's help. His hair is much longer, falling around his face, probably to help him melt into the background, and instead of brown it's a dusty blond.

The man grins wickedly, fleetingly, and then he's moving back into the shadows and disappearing from the screen.

Esposito pauses the screen then, an uncomfortable silence settling over the three of them and she is _afraid. _Afraid because Tyson was _here, _merely hours ago, touching her stuff while he made threats on her fiancé's life, smiling into their cameras – there's nothing she can do. He knows it. She is helpless.

She is terrified.

"Well," Castle says after the stretch of silence. "At least we know what he looks like now, and we have proof that it's him."

"He'll just change his appearance again, he has Nieman," she says bitterly. "He wanted us to know it's him. You know Tyson, Castle, this is all just a game to him, and you're the prize."

Castle's eyes divert to the floor.

"Right."

She and Esposito exchange a look, and soon enough the other detective leaves them, muttering something about getting an extra copy of the CCTV. She doesn't know, doesn't pay attention, simply shuts the door behind him and turns to Castle, where he leans against the table with all of the weight of the world resting heavily upon his weathered shoulders. In this light, she can see the bags beneath his eyes, from the lost nights of sleep since this had all begun, from the worrying. She can see the lines on his face forming through age and weariness, ones she wishes to smooth away with the pads of her own fingers. But there's no way to soothe this ache anymore. There's nothing, they both know that.

But she loves him too much to let him hurt alone.

Kate moves over to him, and her heels combined with his slouching make them the same height. So she places her left hand on his shoulder, the other twining with his on the table, fingers jammed together awkwardly but close. Her nose nudges against the soft skin of his cheek, lips pressing against the corner of his.

"I don't mean to scare you," she tells him softly. "But you know what he's capable of."

"I know… I know."

Her hand moves to stroke against the soft hair at the bottom of his neck, thumb pressing against the tip of his spine.

"You shouldn't be here for this," she says. "Go home. Invite your daughter round. Try to pretend this isn't happening."

"How could I possibly pretend?" He asks, eyes lifting to hers.

"I don't know. Maybe you won't. But at least you'll be safe there, you have the private security you've hired, you – "

"But _you_ won't be safe. You'll be here," he murmurs, hand spanning her waist so that he can pull her forward, into the V of his legs. "Come home with me Kate, let's forget together."

"I can't," she whispers into his hair when his head drops to rest against her shoulder. "I can't do that, Castle."

"You can. You just won't."

She presses her lips against his temple, holds back the bitter tears, the ache in her throat.

"I'm not letting him take you from me again."

* * *

Once Castle leaves, Esposito and Ryan hand her the copy of the CCTV and she finds herself standing like a terrified child outside of Gates' office, hand rapping against the glass.

Beckett hears Gates call her in and she steps in slowly, cautiously, to find the woman reading paper work of her own. She waits patiently in front of Gates' desk until her boss looks up from the files, placing them neatly into the drawer of her desk as she does.

"You have a development in Castle's case?"

She suppresses her reaction to the words. Because it's not Castle's case. He's not dead. He's not. He's alive.

"Proof," Kate says, placing the disc on Gates' desk as she sits, "of Jerry Tyson's involvement."

Gates sighs, inserting the disc into the computer and watching the tape with hawks eyes, capturing every movement on the screen. Kate can't bear to watch it again, that smug bastard's face, so she looks down at the floor until Gates turns back to face her.

"You know what this means, detective," Gates says slowly.

"I know."

"The Chief of Department's gonna rain Hell on you for this."

Beckett clenches her jaw, carefully controlling her words.

"His life is worth it, sir. Justice is worth it."

Gates nods slowly, handing Kate the disc.

"Hang onto this yourself, Beckett. This is all we have."

"Yes sir."

Kate rises from the chair and she makes it to Gates' door when her Captain's voice rings out between them in the office.

"Beckett?"

She turns, fingers gripping the handle.

"Sir?"

"Be careful," is all the woman says before she turns away, reaching for the phone.

"Yes sir," Beckett echoes quietly, feeling the lie clawing away at her lungs.

* * *

Later, when the covers are pulled over their heads, 2am silence settling over them just as the darkness does, they stare at one another as though their time is running out.

Somewhere out there, Jerry Tyson lives.

In the darkness, her fingers quest along his body, until they settle against his heart. Castle's fingers wrap around her wrist, holding her closer, like he understands what she's thinking, what she needs. Maybe he does. Maybe he doesn't. They're not always on the same wavelength, after all, and they've been knocked over so many times this past month, it's hard to see straight anymore.

It's hard to see him. But she does.

"Promise me you won't put yourself in danger without me," he whispers.

"My job _is_ dangerous, Castle."

"Don't do it intentionally," he murmurs, fingers tracing up and down the naked space between her waist and her hip.

"I won't make promises I can't keep," she whispers. "We're more than that."

Castle shifts arm curling around her and pulling her closer, as though he can shield her from this darkness. He can't, he knows that.

"Kate."

"He's not after me, Castle. It's you who's in danger."

"And I'm listening to you and staying here so that I'm safe. Why won't you listen to me?"

"Because listening to you doesn't make _you _any more safe. It puts you in danger. I can't let anyone else work on this but me."

He doesn't speak, and so she moves closer, until their bodies touch, her legs tangling between his and her cheek rests against his shoulder, fingers curling above his heart but not moving, not running. Staying.

"I love you," she whispers. "So much, Castle."

There's silence again.

"Rick…"

"I know."

He's angry. They've been arguing about this ever since she'd gotten back home after her shift, informing him of the BOLO she'd put out on Jerry Tyson and how the Chief Of The Department had paid her a little 'visit' to make things clear about how embarrassing this was for the NYPD. Castle didn't want her to work on this anymore, not without him. If he hides away in the safety of his apartment surrounded by hired security, so should she, by his logic.

But she won't. She has to fight. For him.

* * *

The body drop at 9am the next morning is a welcome distraction. As much as she should put her focus on finding Tyson, there is no official case – she's a homicide detective, she doesn't investigate threats. She has nothing on Tyson, anyway. So she keeps it running in the back of her mind as she arrives at the luxurious apartment in the village, meeting Ryan at the door.

He steps in front of her, concern seeping from him.

"Ryan?"

"Beckett," he begins quietly, "this isn't just another body."

She swallows roughly. "What's going on here?"

Esposito appears from behind Ryan, and the two share a look before Ryan backs down and she follows Esposito into the apartment, glancing back at the detective over her shoulder in confusion. The man simply slumps against the wall, skin a little pale, a little green. Okay. So this is definitely not just another body.

"Beckett," Esposito says, stopping her in the next doorway. "You need to prepare yourself."

"Just tell me what's going on, Esposito."

Esposito looks away, stepping to the side. Silent.

She pushes past him and into the front room of the victim's apartment, and instantly wishes she hadn't.

Hanging from the ceiling with his shoes scraping against the linoleum floor and empty eyes, is Richard Castle.

* * *

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

**sleep in my palms**

Hello, wonderful reviewers. I'd just like to make a note that the extraordinary Audrey (aka speedofloveSK) has begun translating this fic into French. The link to the first chapter can be found on my profile, if you're interested.

* * *

Everything around her is disappearing.

Air vacates her lungs and she is empty. Gasping.

_Castle._

Tears prick behind her eyes and she wants to move closer, to this imposter, because there's no way in Hell it could be Castle, there's no way she would ever let him be taken away from her without her being given the chance to fight. But she can't move. She is stuck, trembling, as she watches CSU move around the body, around the apartment, behaving as though this doesn't have the potential to ruin her.

Kate startles when she feels a hand on her shoulder, turning her head to see Esposito staring at her with compassionate brown eyes.

"It isn't him, is it, Beckett?" He asks. "Tell us it's not him."

The words spur her into movement, previously frozen limbs thawing and she moves forwards, fingers still trembling as she grows closer and closer to this dead version of the man she loves. No. It's not him. It _can't_ be.

With gloved hands, she leans down and raises the left pant leg up of the dead body, holding her breath. Once it reaches his knee she lets out a long, slow breath, eyes closing. God, she has never been more grateful for the sharp edge of his desk, the one he'd bruised his leg on 2 days ago, when they'd been too preoccupied with ripping each other's clothes off to pay attention to where they were going. He'd whined like a baby until her mouth had travelled _low_ and now she just wishes she was back there, with him, kissing that damn bruise on his leg for all her life is worth because she has never been so relieved in her life.

"Kate?"

She takes a deep breath and stands, turning to find Lanie, Esposito and Ryan staring at her, terrified.

God. She doesn't know what she would do if it had been him.

"It's not him," she tells them, watching as they all deflate with relief. "He had a bruise on his leg – purple, hard to miss it. It wouldn't be gone now."

She can hear her voice cracking, knows that she isn't doing a good job of staying strong. Kate curls her trembling fingers into fists, closing her eyes once more and trying to rid the vision of his dead body hanging before her eyes.

_It's not him. It's not him._

"Thank God," Lanie sighs, and when Kate opens her eyes again Lanie is gripping Esposito's hand desperately.

"You saw him this morning, Beckett?" Ryan asks quietly. "You're definitely sure?"

Kate swallows roughly, struggling with words.

"He, uh, he was in the shower when I left. I mean, I assume he was," she tells them, watching the doubt creep back onto their faces. She knows how flimsy this sounds. "The water was running, nobody else uses that shower but Castle and I."

Esposito frowns. "But did you see him?"

"Well – I – no."

Crap. It _is_ flimsy. She hadn't seen him, only heard the water running. And had she seen the bruise on him yesterday? For all she knew it could've healed, it had only been rather small, after all, and he hadn't complained about it at all, which was unusual for him.

Suddenly, she can't breathe, can't think. No. It can't be him. They can't poke holes in her belief.

If it was Castle, she would feel it, wouldn't she?

"Beckett," Ryan says, and her eyes fall to him, panicked, "we believe you. We do. We just need to check, you know that."

Kate nods. They can't take risks.

"Was there anyone at home with you guys?"

"The, uh, security. That Castle hired."

She chances a glance back at the body, hanging lifelessly. It makes her feel sick to her very core, she can feel bile rising and she struggles to swallow it back down. Kate distracts herself by shoving her fists into her coat pockets, biting her lower lip as her eyes sting and the body before her blurs. She doesn't ever want to see this again. She just wants to see him, bright-eyed and warm and _alive._

"We'll call him," Esposito says, pulling his cell from his pocket, "just to check."

Kate nods absently, closing her eyes and she feels a hand rest against the small of her back.

"He'll be fine," Lanie murmurs soothingly into her ear, rubbing the hand against her back comfortingly. "You'll see. We're just double checking."

Her heart drops into her stomach when Esposito's phone rings and rings only to be met with Castle's voice blurting out his charming voicemail message, and she watches all colour drain from her friends when Esposito tries once again and nothing comes of it.

"He may just be writing," Lanie says quickly, watching Kate grow a pale green. "You said that he goes into some kind of trance when he does that, he may not have heard the phone."

"I – I need to –"

She's tearing out of the room without giving them another word, no explanation. The elevator takes too long to arrive, so she skips it, taking the stairs two at a time even if they're on the 9th floor. Her heart is beating erratically, panicked, and her sweaty palms squeak against the rails as she grips them to prevent herself falling head first, tripping through the lobby of the building until the fresh air hits her face and she's finally outside.

But the fresh air makes it worse and she feels her stomach roll, so quickly her body curls around the nearest trashcan, her stomach emptying itself of its contents, visions of blood and bruises and clammy skin flashing before her eyes.

She feels someone pull her hair from her face, a hand on her back again, rhythmic circles drawn there as she heaves again and again, throat stinging, until there's nothing left and she is crying, trembling, cold all over and she is _terrified._

"I'm gonna take you back to the loft, honey," Lanie says, helping Kate stand once again. "Give me your car keys."

"I can drive," she protests weakly.

"Like Hell I'm gonna let you drive in this state. Keys."

Kate hands them over without another argument, settling into the passenger seat of her car, head leaning back against the headrest as Lanie pulls them into Manhattan traffic. She can't believe this is happening. It isn't happening. There's no way that was him. It can't have been. He couldn't have died alone, while she slept obliviously in their bed, thinking she could keep them safe.

She doesn't wait for Lanie when they park in front of Castle's building, all but falling out of the car in her haste to get inside. She thinks she can hear Lanie behind her as she jogs past the doorman without a word, stabbing the elevator button impatiently and pacing madly as she waits, fingers toying with her engagement ring.

"You need to calm down, Kate," Lanie says, grabbing her wrists and stilling her. "Calm down."

"I can't," she chokes out. "What if it's him?"

"It isn't," Lanie says. "You know that bruise should've been there. You know how alike Nieman can make them. They're playing with your head."

The elevator arrives and Kate paces madly again in the small box, trapped. Despite Lanie's logic, she can't stop the panic. She loves this man too much.

They arrive on his floor – _finally_ – and she's racing down the hall to his door, skidding to a stop in front of it and surprising the security that stands before his door.

"Miss Beckett," the man – George, she thinks his name may be – says, startled.

"Is he here?" She asks desperately. "Is Castle here?"

George takes too long to answer, so she pushes past him, entering the loft with one sweep of her arm against the heavy door. The front room is empty except for another man dressed in a suit, gun tucked into his holster, eyes watching her carefully. He must be okay. These men would know if something had happened to Castle. _She _would know.

Kate barges into his office and almost throws up again, knees trembling and threatening to give out beneath her when she spots him, Castle, _alive._

"Kate," he says in surprise, looking up from his laptop. His face falls when he drinks her in. "What's wrong?"

"Castle," she bites out as a sob, and then she says nothing more.

She trips around his desk immediately, falling into his lap, legs awkwardly bent against the arm rests of the chair as her arms wind their way around his neck and her trembling fingers finally settle in his hair. His arms wrap around her with no question and her head falls to his shoulder, letting out a low, aching sob that rises from the pit of her lungs, eyes stinging and she doesn't attempt to hold back the tears any longer.

He's _here._

"Shh, Kate," he murmurs, breath warm against her neck, words tumbling around inside of her. "Shh."

Gripping him tighter, she hiccups, attempting to speak but nothing will come out but desperate sobs and she cannot _stop _crying, cannot stop pushing closer to him even when there's not an inch of space between them, still struggling to believe that she hasn't lost him yet because there had been a moment in which she really thought she _had. _

Slowly, her sobs stifle, until she's simply leaking tears, mouth open against his neck and taking deep, slow breaths. Trying to calm herself as his hands sweep up and down against her spine, sneaking underneath her coat to press against her skin and she shivers.

"You wanna talk about it?" Castle asks, pressing a gentle kiss against her temple, and she closes her eyes, savouring it.

She sucks in another deep breath, before finally managing to speak.

"Body," she says, hiccupping again, "Tyson's work. Probably. Looked just like you, Castle."

Castle sighs, hands reaching up to cup her jaw and pushes her back so that she has space to look up at him. His thumbs gently stroke her cheekbones, wiping against the wet scars that mar her cheeks, watching her tenderly.

"I'm right here," he says. "Not dead, Kate."

"I know," she whimpers, "but I didn't see you this morning, and you wouldn't answer your phone, and the only way I knew it wasn't you was because of a damn _bruise _you had and I was so _scared, _Castle – "

"Oh, Kate, Kate," he whispers, kissing her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I didn't hear my phone, I was writing. I'm sorry."

She fists her hand in his shirt, above his heart.

"I know. But I couldn't stop being so panicked – and I just needed…"

"I'm here," he tells her again. "I'm here."

He leans in to kiss her and she jerks backwards, and she finds herself laughing when she hadn't thought she'd ever laugh again, watching rejection cross his expression.

"You don't wanna kiss me. I was just sick, Castle," she explains.

"I don't care."

He cups her blotchy cheeks and leans in, lips sliding over hers preciously. Her body arches into his immediately, fingers grabbing the fabric of his shirt tightly. She feels him flinch when her mouth opens and his tongue strokes against hers, but he doesn't stop, keeps kissing her slowly and tenderly like his life isn't in danger, like a deranged serial killer isn't after him for revenge, like he can actually keep his promise of always.

When they pull away from each other, he grins a little, but his eyes lack his usual spark.

"You should probably brush your teeth. That was kinda gross."

She laughs quietly. "I will."

But she just needs to sit here, with him, for a while. So rests her head against his shoulder, weaves her unoccupied hand with his and watches the way the morning sunlight spills against their skin. Alive.

* * *

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**sleep in my palms**

Please note the switch to an M rating. If you don't read that sort of thing, do not read past the first line break to avoid sexy times. Skip to the second one and read from there.

* * *

Later, their peaceful solitude is broken by Lanie, calling Kate softly from the office doorway, one of the security guys standing behind her.

Kate sighs, untangling herself from Castle and standing, sparing him a final tender look. He smiles at her as he stands too, reaching out to squeeze her hand lightly before dropping it and turning to face Lanie.

"What's up, Lanie?" She asks, self-consciously smoothing down her hair.

"There's somethin' you need to see," Lanie tells them, and panic seizes Kate's heart again.

They follow Lanie into the front room to discover that CSU have arrived during their moment alone in his office, along with Captain Gates. Surprise encompasses her spine and her eyes drift to Lanie's, a question hidden there, but Lanie looks away. Huh. Something's going on. Something bad has happened.

"Captain Gates," Castle says flatly, sensing something wrong, too. "What a surprise."

It's an understatement, to say the least. But the woman stands in the middle of their apartment, hands on her hips, looking stern and serious until she turns away from CSU, hands dropping and expression softening. It only makes Kate grow more anxious. Gates isn't nice to them without anything bad happening.

What are CSU doing in Castle's apartment?

"Mr Castle, Detective Beckett," Gates greets them. "I'm sorry about the situation you've found yourselves in."

Castle nods and Beckett glances over at Lanie again, who is refusing to meet her eyes, has instead dipped down and is talking to a member of CSU. What could she have missed? Why is Gates here? The lack of knowledge is burning away at the fringes of her nerves.

"Well, not to sound rude, sir, but uh," Castle stammers, "what exactly are you doing here?"

Gates catches Lanie's eyes and Lanie moves over, carrying a evidence bag in her hands. Kate's mouth drops open as she spots it. A note inside the bag. There's a note here? Where? Who'd left it there?

"Doctor Parish called me with some news after you'd arrived here, Beckett," Gates says seriously once Lanie reaches her side. "She found a note on your kitchen counter."

Beside her, Kate hears Castle gasp. She holds her own breath.

"From Tyson?" She asks, wishing for anything but.

Lanie speaks up this time, passing her the evidence bag. "I'm afraid so, honey."

Kate takes the bag from Lanie's hands, holding it up for both her and Castle to read.

_Practice makes perfect. _

_His death will be my most beautiful piece of art._

Kate shoves the note back at Lanie as though it's burned her, breath hitching in her chest and she feels Castle shifting closer to her, hand reaching for hers and she takes it without hesitation. God, this man had been here. In her _home. _Past the damn security. He could've gotten to Castle so easily, without giving her time to protect him.

"I'm gonna go back to the lab, run prints," Lanie tells her softly, "and find out who the vic really is. I'll call you if I have any news."

Kate's voice catches in her throat. She merely manages a strangled _thank you, Lanie _before the ME leaves.

She glances up at Castle, sees the terror she feels inside reflected in his expression, deep in the blue swirl of his eyes. Her hand grips his tighter, as though that can fix anything at all.

"Mr Castle," Gates says quietly, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to place you under witness protection."

Castle's mouth drops open and Kate could almost kiss the woman. _Finally. _Some real protection for Castle. Instead of her own misguided attempts.

"Sir, I – "

Gates holds up a hand, shooting him a stern look.

"It's for your own good, Mr Castle. I have two detectives ready to escort you to a safe house within half an hour, along with any hired security you wish to take with you."

"Half an hour?" Castle whines. "How are Kate and I supposed to pack in that time?"

Gates and Beckett exchange a glance, and Kate sighs in acceptance, turning to face Castle. His own gaze flickers between them suspiciously, his brow furrowing. She takes a deep breath before she speaks, twining both of their hands together.

"Castle," she murmurs softly, "I'm not coming with you."

Castle pales instantly. "You're _what?"_

"You're the one who's in danger, not me. I'm staying here, Castle, to work on the case. I can't hide away."

"But you expect _me _to?" Castle thunders. "No way, Kate. That is _not _happening."

"Mr Castle," Gates sighs. "You can do this the easy or the hard way. I'd prefer the easy way."

"You expect me to _leave _her?" Castle growls, ripping his hands away from Kate's and she stands in shock as he confronts her captain, an anger in his eyes she hasn't seen since Alexis had been taken. "You expect me to hide away while he can get to her?"

"The threats have only been made on your life, Mr Castle. Beckett will be assigned a protective detail, along with your mother and your daughter, and if there are any threats or any attempts on their lives – no matter how small – they will be sent to the safe house with you right away."

"Sir," Beckett protests, stepping forward. "You can't take me off this case, even if Tyson threatens me."

Castle glares at her while Gates simply gives her a withering look.

"If it means saving your life, detective, I will do whatever I can in my power to do so."

Beckett's protests die on her tongue, and she glances over at Castle. His shoulders are rigid, his spine tense. She aches to move over, to smooth a hand along his spine, but she knows he'd only reject her now. He's glaring at them both, angry beyond belief, and she is powerless to stop it. But can't he see? It's for his own good – for his life, and she knows that if their positions were reversed, he would do the same for her. She just wants to keep him safe.

"I'm not leaving you, Kate." Castle says, training his eyes on hers.

"You won't have a choice, if you stay," she murmurs. "Tyson will take you away forever if you do."

He shakes his head, balling his hands into fists at his sides.

"We can fight him. Together, Kate."

"Not this fight, Castle. Not this time."

"I'm not running."

She steps closer. Reaches for his hands. "Please, Castle," she whispers, voice hitching with tears. "I can't lose you."

Castle drops his head, and she pushes up, brushing a kiss against his cheek. Breathes there. She hates this. She doesn't want him to go. But she knows that this is the only solution, the only way to protect him.

"Please," she whispers again, and she feels the fight drain from him this time. "Rick, I need you to do this for me. For Alexis and Martha. We can't lose you."

He releases a long breath, and when he meets her eyes she can tell he's still completely mad at her, but he agrees.

"I'm going to pack," he mutters, sulking away and closing the office door behind him.

She watches him go with an aching heart.

"Detective," Gates says, and she turns back to her captain. "This is for his own good."

"I know," she sighs. "Who've you assigned to him?"

"Matthews and Hall. They're the best I could get at such short notice, but they're good. They'll keep him safe."

Gates nods to a dark-skinned man and a tall, slender woman, who both move over to them at the Captain's orders.

"This is Detective Matthews," Gates says, gesturing to the man, "and Detective Hall," she finishes, nodding to the woman.

Detective Matthews holds out a hand and she shakes it, admiring his firm grip. He's tall, broad. There's no doubt that he's strong, and the half-moon scar curling around his right eye shows that he's seen his fair share of violence. She's certain Matthews will be able to look after Castle. Next, she shakes Hall's hand, soft and polite in her own, but she knows that appearances can be deceiving. Her height must give her power, too. The strong glint in Hall's eyes gives her confidence, as the woman smiles self-assuredly in greeting.

"I'm gonna, uh, go check on him," Kate tells her captain, while the detectives stand vigilantly by the woman's side.

"Twenty minutes left, detective." Gates says sternly. "No longer than that. We need to make sure we operate out of Tyson's radar."

Kate nods, understanding, and then moves away, passing through Castle's office and into their bedroom.

He's sitting on the end of the bed, a shirt in his hands and duffel bag open beside him. She attempts to comfort him, but when she places a palm on his shoulder he flinches away from her as though she's just hurt him. It stings, the rejection, but she pushes it away. Now isn't the time to be selfish. He's hurting, too. He's the one that has to leave against his will; he's the one who's in danger. She knows what it's like to fear for her life, to feel the world tilting on its axis and trust only a handful of people at most.

So she gives him space, taking her time to brush her teeth in the en suite. When she's done, she collects his, brushing her thumb over the handle softly. He's leaving.

When she re-enters their room, he's standing, packing mechanically. She leaves the toothbrush on the drawer he's picking clothes from, knows he's seen it, but he refuses to acknowledge her once again. He turns his back to her, stuffing clothes haphazardly into his bag.

"I'm only trying to protect you."

The silence that follows her words suffocates her. So she moves forward, rests a hand between his shoulder blades, pressing a kiss against the fabric covering his shoulder.

"I don't want to go."

She sighs, resting her forehead against the back of his shoulder. "I don't want you to go, either."

Castle turns, eyes bloodshot, staring down at her desperately.

"Don't make me do it, Kate. I can't run away and worry about you. I can't hide and constantly worry that you'll get yourself in danger trying to protect me."

She reaches up, cupping his cheeks.

"I promise I'll try to stay safe. Okay?"

He leans down, nudges his nose against hers.

"Kate."

"I can't promise you anything more. Just – please, Castle – understand that I'm doing this to keep you safe."

His hands settle on her waist, thumbs digging into her ribs.

"Come with me. Ryan, Esposito – the whole damn precinct can do it without you, Kate."

She swallows roughly, shaking her head and seeing the disappointment rise into his eyes. God, she's nothing but a disappointment, all the time. For years now all she's done is let him down. She doesn't regret them; she will never regret loving him. But she will always regret putting him in danger, knowing it's all her fault, and now she's helpless to save him.

"I won't let them. I have to save you."

He groans, frustrated.

"Please, Kate. You don't have to do this."

"I _do._"

"You're being ridiculous."

"So are _you_," she spits back, and then, before she has time to apologise, to say she doesn't really mean it, his mouth is covering hers, rough and savage and _oh, _yes.

He pushes her back, hands anything but gentle as they sneak under her shirt, hot on her skin. She gasps when the back of her knees hit the bed and she tumbles backwards, gripping his shirt tightly so that he falls with her, knocking the breath out of her as he lands on her with his entire weight. He lifts away quickly, not giving her time to catch her breath before he's kissing her again, unbuttoning her shirt impatiently. She whines, letting her legs fall open so that his hips fall into the cradle of hers, pushing against her own insistently, and her nails rake down his spine as she gets her hands under his own shirt, revelling in the feel of his skin beneath the touch of her own.

Castle bites down on her lower lip for that and she gasps, arching up into him. His mouth moves away from hers and down to her jaw, nipping and sucking his way down and her neck and she knows she _should _care but she absolutely does _not _mind if he leaves a mark.

He growls when she rips his shirt apart and pulls it from his body. God, they should not be doing this. There are people in the other room. _Gates. _

But she couldn't stop even if she wanted to.

* * *

"Castle," she moans softly, vision hazy as he kisses his way down her neck and his tongue presses against her clavicle.

Then his mouth latches onto one lace-covered breast, his tongue swirling against the fabric. She can feel her nipples pebbling as heat begins to unfurl low in her stomach, feels her panties growing damp with her own arousal. There's no way she can stop the involuntary buck of her hips against his, and the vibration of his moan against her breast _definitely _does it for her, making her hum softly. His revenge is his other hand sneaking beneath the cup of her previously ignored breast, squeezing roughly before tweaking her nipple just as harshly.

She tangles her hands in his hair, pulling his mouth back up to meet hers. She tugs his lower lip between her teeth, nipping roughly, and he growls against her, fingers digging into ribs as she releases his bruised lip.

"We shouldn't be doing this," she pants out.

He dips to her neck again, sucking on the point under her ear that makes her melt and writhe beneath his touch.

"We're definitely doing this," he counters.

Without protesting, she slides her hands down his navel, expertly unbuckling his belt. He holds his breath as she quickly flicks the button of his jeans and then completely bypasses his boxers, her palm finding him hot and heavy and ready in her palm.

She pumps him tortuously, grinning when he groans against her neck.

She regrets it when he gets his payback, his thick fingers somehow passing her jeans and panties without her noticing and they press against her wetness. She gasps into his mouth, feeling him laugh above her and she squeezes him warningly for that, his own gasp filling her mouth this time, sizzling against her tongue.

Their kisses turn sloppy and wet when his fingers dip into her shallowly, dragging her wetness up and around, briefly pressing against her clit. Kate whines but then he pushes two fingers into her and begins pumping, and her eyes roll into the back of her head.

God. _This man. _She's going to miss him so much.

"Off," she mutters, hand releasing him to tug his jeans and boxers down his hips. "Now, Castle."

His fingers leave her and she can't help whimpering at that, scowling as he smirks.

She shoves her own jeans and panties down her legs and tosses them somewhere to the side as he rids himself of the remainder of his clothes. She's still wearing her shirt and bra, but when his hands reach out to rid her of them she pushes him away, impatient.

"No time," she gasps out, pulling him back on top of her. "Need you. Now."

He groans, and she can feel him brush against her wetness, causing her hips to undulate without her permission. She grits her teeth.

"Castle."

He gets the message his time, one hand curling around her thigh as he pushes into her, filling her completely.

"Oh, God," she lets out a long, strangled moan, panting.

Castle's mouth settles against her collarbone, sucking and nipping and she moans again as he begins to thrust into her, fingers tightening their grip on her thigh as he spreads her wider, opens her to him, driving him deeper. His other hand reaches out to tangle with hers above the rumpled bed sheets. She closes her eyes and tilts her head back, exposing her neck to him as he pants and his thrusts grow faster, harder, his mouth immediately latching on to the exposed skin there, biting her hard enough to make her gasp in surprise and squirm beneath him.

She didn't know how much she needed this. Oh God, she doesn't want him to go.

Her free hand curls in his hair as she moans his name softly, nails sharp and piercing against his skin. He groans against her neck, rolling his hips into hers roughly, fingers digging sharp enough to leave bruises. Her mouth opens on a soundless moan, tilting her hips up to meet his.

There's something off, though. She can feel her body beginning to coil as she approaches release, bitter tears clinging to her eyelashes because she doesn't want this to _end. _But it's not enough. She needs – she doesn't know – something.

Castle seems to sense it, and then he's pulling out of her, causing her to whimper and frown at him in confusion.

His eyes swirl with arousal and then with strong, sure hands he flips her over so that she's face-down on the mattress, and he's sliding back into her again, leaning down so that he completely covers her, his chest pressed against her back, encompassing everything, making tears spring harshly into her eyes. Yes, yes. This is what she'd been missing. She's – so close –

"Castle," she gasps, "can't – not much longer – "

"Let go, Kate," he murmurs into her ear. "Come for me."

His hand sneaks beneath her stomach, fingers seeking out her clit as he grips her hips and tilts her upwards as their hips meet thrust for thrust. She moans out his name loudly, muffled only by the pillow she quickly buries her face into. Oh God. She doesn't want to let go – doesn't want to at all – but his fingers are so talented and he's so _thick _inside of her and everywhere all at once and she doesn't want to let go, she won't, she –

With one final flick of his fingers against her she comes, crying out his name and his hand quickly covers her mouth to muffle the sound. He groans into her hair and she can feel him spill into her while she pulsates around him, warm inside as she trembles.

She sobs against his fingers as his weight presses down on her, her hips stopping their rotating rhythm as the last waves of pleasure roll over her and he slips from her. He presses a gentle kiss against her neck, making her shudder, and she can't hold it back – won't hold back the tears any longer.

* * *

He attempts to roll from her, but she clings to the hand that's pressed against her mouth. Kisses it gently.

"Stay," she whispers, tears clogging her throat.

He lets out a strangled sob against her neck, arm curling beneath her, around her stomach.

"I can't."

He rolls off of her, and she presses her face into her pillow beneath her, fists curling tightly. She tries to stop the tears. She really does. But he's going and she doesn't want him to and he doesn't want to either, and she doesn't know when she's going to see him again, but this is the only way to protect him, and he's leaving her alone in their bed half-dressed and crying. Crap. She needs to get a hold of herself.

Keep him safe. That's what she needs to do.

The mattress dips beside her minutes later, his hands resting on the back of her naked thighs.

"Kate," he murmurs.

She turns to look at him. He's fully dressed now, bag beside him and she knows he has to go. Gates is waiting, the detectives need to usher him out, Tyson can't see. There's a case she needs to get back to. Tyson. She needs to catch Tyson.

His eyes make her bleed inside. Red, like how she imagines hers are, and bloodshot. He doesn't want to go.

Kate sighs, reaching out for his hand to tug him closer, until he's leaning over her. She kisses him softly, sweetly, unwilling for it to end as she hand curls around the back of his neck. Too soon, she has to release his lips from hers, sliding away unwillingly.

"I love you," she whispers against his lips.

"I love you too."

He presses his forehead against hers, fingers trailing over her soft skin. She doesn't know what to say. She doesn't think that there are words.

"I promise, Castle, I will get him. There's no way you're getting out marrying me this easily."

Castle laughs, a little bittersweet as tears shine in his eyes.

"Stay safe," he says softly as he sobers. "Promise me, Kate."

She nods. Kisses him again, fingers curling around the nape of his neck. "I promise."

And then he's sliding away and she has to let him go, and she can't watch, so she buries her head in his pillow and breathes the scent of him in.

If she closes her eyes, he could almost still be there, with her.

* * *

**TBC**


End file.
